


Pixelated

by MizJoely



Series: SherlollyPrompts [44]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 20:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17372951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: stark-raving-hazelnut asked: I know I already sent you an ask but I'm bored too so here it goes. Drunkfic request: After work drinks. Smut or not smut. Up to you.





	Pixelated

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't entirely happy with the story I wrote on tumblr so this is me trying to make this T rated, canon divergent (Mary's alive, yay!) PTFP fic better. Hopefully I've done so.

"And then I told him to sod off because what kind of arsehole does something like that?"

Molly slurped down the last of her mai-tai and slammed the glass on the wooden table-top triumphantly. "What do you think about that, Mary? Was I right or what?"

Mary glanced over at the arshehole in question, who had silently walked up to their table. "Yeah, well, maybe we should talk about this another time, Molls?"

Molly ignored her and continued, "Dammit he just  _had_ to make me say it, tell him I loved him! Did I tell you that, Mare?"

"You did," Mary replied, her voice soothing. "But Molly, right now I think-"

"I think you've had enough to drink, Molly."

 _Oh, brilliant, Sherlock,_  Mary thought as Molly stared belligerently at him.  _Antagonize the drunk lady, excellent tactics._

Then again, considering what happened in the next several minutes, maybe he wasn't as much of an idiot as she thought he was.

Molly slowly rose to her feet, wobbling only the teensiest bit as she continued to glower at Sherlock. Raising one hand to chest level, she slowly extended her pointer finger, then proceeded to jab him in the chest with it after every sentence she spoke. "I'm a grown-ass woman, Sherlock Holmes," she proclaimed.  _Poke._  "I decide when I've had enough to drink."  _Poke._  "Not you, not Mary, not anyone in this goddammed bar."  _Poke._  "Except the bartender, and he's my friend so that's ok."

Sherlock glowered right back at her, the two of them ignoring Mary as she continued to watch from her seat across the small table, her red wine forgotten in the moment. "So Mary's not your friend? I'm not your friend?"

Molly's scowl deepened. "Course you're my friends!" she declared, although came out more like 'frenzzzz' to Mary's ears. "Buuut," she added quickly, "it still wasn't nice to make me do that, Sherlock. Evil sister or no evil sister. You shoulda, I dunno, just asked me what my last words to my dad were before he died. Unless you deleted what I told you."

With that last sentence, she went from belligerent to morose, causing Mary to make an abortive move to reach out and rest her hand on her friend's arm in a gesture of sympathy and comfort.

'Abortive' only because Sherlock beat her to the punch.

Both women's eyes were drawn to the battered and bruised condition of his knuckles. "She had a coffin, Molly," Sherlock said, his eyes on hers, his gaze so intense Mary felt compelled to look away. To stealthily draw her handbag up from under her chair and ease into her coat. "It had those words on it - and even though Mycroft said it was for someone who loved me, I realized after I made you say them that it was about how I felt all along. And the thought of you in a coffin…" He took a shuddering breath as Mary pushed her chair back and rose to her feet. "I smashed it," he confessed quietly.

Mary had already figured that much out, and would have some words with John about him skipping over that part of his explanation of that harrowing 24-hours! But this conversation was growing more and more 'A' and 'B'; definitely time to 'C' herself out.

"Well, time to get home to John and Rosie!" she said loudly. "Thanks for a lovely evening out, Molly, bye!"

The last words she heard as she hurried away from the table were Sherlock's quiet, "I meant it. I wasn't just saying it because you told me to" and Molly's equally soft, "You meant it?"

When she reached the pub door, she paused and looked back, smiling to herself as she saw Sherlock and Molly locked in a warm embrace.

Oh, wouldn't John be shocked by that - him and his 'Sherlock only said it to save her life, he's in love with Irene Adler' interpretation of things!


End file.
